The first time I saw a porn magazine I was about 10 years old. My family lived on a farm that made Little House on the Prairie seem like Broadway. After driving five miles of dirt roads through the backwoods of Deliverance our driveway was another half mile. The Branch Dividians looked at buying our piece of nowhere, but even religious psychopaths have some common sense.
Our single wide (notice I didn’t say double) trailer sat at the top of a hill and at the bottom stood a 100 year old dilapidate house out of a scene from Amityville Horror. It came with a large Hemmingway-ish front porch with a slope leading away from it. As a side note, that front porch made an excellent means for stopping while I learned to used my bicycle’s brakes.
No one had lived there in years but apparently the last inhabitant had a hankering for porn and tobacco. Inside strewed among old boxes, broken down mattresses, and small-town newspapers was a 70’s issue of Hustler next to a pouch of Red Man Chewing Tobacco.
Obviously, being a said redneck, I eagerly went for the chew first. Tasting like a piece of five-day-old roadkill, I spit out as much as I could and gagged down the remainder. The periodical however I approached with a bit more caution. While I had no idea what it entirely was I had a sneaking feeling it wasn’t something good. Thumbing through its pages of men and women doing things I’d never seen on Saturday morning cartoons was at first confusing, then intriguing, but soon was thrilling. I had just turned a new chapter in my life and hoping to savor it a while longer I instinctually hid my private stash from the eyes of annoying adults and ditched the tobacco.
That moment flipped a switch in my young subconscious mind. Seeing those beauties in their birthday suits opened up a Pandora’s box of sorts – sex. As I got into high school thoughts of sex began permeating my waking hours. With an ample supply of teenage cuties around it seemed no matter where I was – my thermostat remained on high. It should be noted here that none of these thoughts ever went anywhere (that’s for you mom), the notion of actually having sex was far more nerve-racking than my teenage constitution could stand.
Let it be known I am not a virgin. I have been married, divorced, and have two kids to show for it. Now that’s out of the way I will admit that my first time ‘doing it’, which was much later in life than most, was arguably one of the most disturbing yet exhilarating events I’ve ever had – and definitely the most disappointing and uneventful for her. I was never given a ‘birds and bee’s conversation, talk, or a grunt growing up and any pornography I watched was obstructed by static from a poor satellite signal. My only point of reference for the mechanics of sex was the bodily diagrams in our Health book and my imagination.
When a young lad gets to an age where his chances of actually having sex are greater than his chances of being hit by lightening a shift in his priorities takes place. A good portion of his time and energy is now spent in search of a willing accomplice. The youngster may find himself spending his parent’s money, telling her what he thinks she wants to hear, and putting on academy worthy acting performances in the hope of scoring a homerun. But deep down he never thinks she’ll really go along with it. He’s already gotten far more rejections than he can count but in the midst of all those NO’S sometimes he lands a YES and when that happens everything normally goes to crap! [pullquote]All he really wants now is a six-pack, silence, and a TV show that doesn’t include Barney or teenage vampires.[/pullquote]
I’m convinced any guy younger than 25 should be biologically prohibited from having sex. It should be like his junk doesn’t work until the morning of that birthday. First they simply have no idea what they are doing or how things work and they usually end up embarrassing themselves while the poor girl gets depressed that she went through all of that trouble for three minutes – two of which was spent getting ready. Not to mention these guys have no clue about romance, bonding, and intimacy. Those notions get totally lost in his amazement that
“Oh, my God, I’M GOING TO HAVE SEX WITH A REAL GIRL!!!”
Guys having sex at that age is like a bomb exploding – it’s total shock and awe. He’s finally been picked first on the playground and now has no idea how to handle it. But the sad part is he doesn’t really care because performance anxiety isn’t a young guys concern; it’s all about number one and basking in the success of talking her into it. And once she’s said yes it becomes all about how fast he can go from zero to touchdown and there’s not a woman who doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
Here’s how a guy knows when he’s too young to have sex. If he has to make excuses for the party ending too soon with the phrase “I’m sorry, that’s never happened before” then he needs to put it back in the box for a few years, because he just looks sad and it gives his buddies a bad name.
But a funny thing eventually occurs, believe it or not with age and marriage most guy’s longing for horizontal jazzercise wanes. A couple of kids, a mortgage, job, a yard to mow and all he really wants now is a six-pack, silence, and a TV show that doesn’t include Barney or teenage vampires. What once seemed like his only reason for living is now pretty much a nuisance.
It’s scientific fact that a male’s sexual peak is in his late teens and early twenties, during a time with the least likelihood of him actually having sex. While a woman’s sexual crescendo occurs in her late 30’s and into her 40’s and if the reports are accurate they aren’t having sex either. Which proves my point that if dudes waited a few years everybody would be happier and having more sex.